locketofyourhair | [Fic] Make a Home (Sif/Loki/Fandral, NC-17)

Make a Home
700+ | Sif/Loki/Fandral | NC-17

Unbeta'ed; kink_bingo: vanilla kink; allusions to mpreg

Fandral loves a great many things about Midgard. He is not like Thor, who prefers it to all realms. Such things are silliness, as Asgard is their home and their realm. He does like what it has to offer, though, even if Sif seems to blame this world for her condition.

She is barely into the second trimester--according to the human doctor’s--but already her belly is larger, swollen with the child. One of them has gotten her with child, and one of them will be paying the large price of such an action. Sif has already threatened them both with incredible amounts of pain as she can hardly fight in this condition. She is still lethal, but she notices the differences in her balance, and that is all she needs to be irritated.

Fandral, though, is jealous. He remembers the messes that Loki found himself in when they were youn, the horse that should not have caught him and such, and he wonders if Loki ever considers it, allowing his body to take on a child again. It makes Fandral’s skin run hot and cold at the same time to think that he cannot feel such things.

He thinks he hides it well, though. And he’s wrong of course.

*

He realizes that he’s been found out, when Sif is tying him to the bed and Loki is just watching. She touches her stomach and looks at him with an almost pitying expression. “You wish you were were our child, pet?”

Fandral’s eyes flick to Loki. He shrugs with a soft smirk on his face. “She wanted this.”

Sif slaps his cheek gently, and she shakes her head. “Pay attention to me,” she hisses and she slides herself along his body. He feels the harness without actually seeing it, and he’s not surprised when she grabs the lubricant from the bedside table. She touches her stomach with her free hand.

“It seems a shame, that you could never feel this, something we made growing inside you.”

He feels his cheeks burn and he shrugs, shifting uncomfortably in the bonds. “I can’t.”

She slides a finger into him. He shivers, and she leans a little closer. “You would be the best parent of all of us, I think. You were once willing to give up a warrior’s life for a woman.” She pushes in another finger, and Fandral groans softly.

“You’d like it, if you were a maid who stayed at home for her warrior husbands, who raised our small children into fine warriors and maids themselves. You’d want us to keep you heavy with child whenever possible,” Sif murmurs.

Loki reaches over and touches Fandral’s cheek. “You would be a wonderful wife.”

Fandral looks at him, at the calm, measured look in his eyes. Loki holds his face as Sif pushes the dildo into him. He loves that she can labor over him like a man in this realm, that the humans have manufactured a way for such things. She gives him a moment to adjust, to be ready for the push of it.

“I would want you to watch out home,” Sif says, pushing into his body again and again. Her belly brushes lightly against his own stomach. “When the babe is born, I want you to be the one to raise it, to teach it as a mother should.”

Fandral bites his lip, trying to ignore the way her words cut through him. He wants her as she is, heavy with their child and her breasts larger than they should be. He wants her this way, and he wants what she is saying like a dull ache.

“I want to see you carry our children,” Loki says then, tracing the contours of Fandral’s smooth stomach. “I want to see your belly ripen.”

Fandral cries out then, Sif’s thrusts harder and more pointed. Their skin slaps together, and Fandral is closer to orgasm than he realizes. Loki’s hand is around his cock, and Sif is fucking him over and over again. He is close and his face is burning with the shame of wanting such things and wanting them, of the desire they both bring out in him.

“Would you let me?” Sif asks. She is panting, her pale skin flushing. “If I could, would you let me get you with child so we could see such a wonder?”

Loki’s hand tightens around his cock, suddenly a blur of speed, and Fandral can’t last like this. He cries out. He says, “Yes,” and he nods and he loses himself into the pleasure of what they are doing to him, and to the picture of him with their children.